Horrible Hetalia
by HoshiUta
Summary: The cast of Hetalia has decided to show everyone the true history of the world. A collection of Horrible Histories parody.
1. In which the curtain is ripped

"Yes, yes. This will work." An emerald eye scanned its owner's reflection in the mirror. The other eye was covered by a black patch. A huge black hat with gold trims running along its edges and feathers ruffling one of its side sat on his head. His red long coat looked brand new, even though he had worn it numerous times, hundreds of years ago. The coat, too, had gold trims running along its edges. Underneath it was a white ruffle shirt and black trousers, pressed to perfection. A black boot that went up to his knees adorned his feet. For a pirate he seemed almost too regal.

His sandy hair was hidden by the huge black hat. His eye reflected power. His skin was smooth and he had a strong jaw which accentuated his handsome face. And along those jaw down to his beautiful collarbone was, was a…thick black beard?

England cackled. He could only begin to imagine the reaction that he would get from the others.

"Yes, today's meeting will be very interesting. Very interesting, indeed."

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><p>Just like all the countless description of world meetings in this huge fandom, it was boring and useless. What's that? I'm uncreative? Oh, shut up. You're missing the point, here.<p>

Anyway like I said, the meeting went on like usual with nations chattering among themselves, ignoring everything else. The only unusual thing perhaps would be the fact that England, who was usually one of the nations to arrive early, was unusually late.

"Silence! All of you!" Germany shouted as per usual. "We're supposed to start this meeting 10 minutes ago!"

"Oui, but Anglettere isn't here, yet." France gestured towards the empty seat right across his.

"Does anyone know what's going on? It's unusual for him to be late." Germany sighed again for who knew how many times that day and it was only 10 in the morning.

"Hahaha! Maybe the old man has finally gone senile and forgot the meeting!" America exclaimed.

Suddenly music can be heard out of nowhere. And before anyone could began thinking 'w_hat the?'_ two gunshots rang through the air and bullets penetrated the oak double door. The perpetrator kicked it down, hopped onto the round meeting table, ran across, jumped and awesomely did a double somersault in the air only to land right in front of the podium microphone just in time for the music entry signal.

"_When I was a nipper, I boarded a clipper. Sailed the seas as a goods importer, oh!_"

The perpetrator's voice filled the air of the miraculous moment where the whole meeting place was filled with silence. The nations were busy gaping and trying to compute the sight in front of them.

Obviously the person in front of them was England, even with the ridiculous get-up and the even more ridiculous black beard. However the unmistakeable eyebrows and green eyes, _eye_, gave him away. The question plaguing everyone's mind was: "What the fuck is he doing?"

England, however, payed no mind to his audience though it took all his will power not to burst out laughing at their reactions. Almost all the nations had their jaws dropping, except maybe Sweden whose pupils went impossibly smaller than normal and Russia who had an uncomfortable childish smile on his face. Instead, he continued singing.

"_Arthur Kirkland's my name, but I earned my fame as Blackbeard the pirate of the water, oh!_"

Slowly he moved from the podium and down the steps towards the other nations, giving them a good look of his appearance from head to toe. He slipped the two flintlock pistols in both his hands back to his belt.

"_Was a jolly chap, with a jaunty cap_" he tipped his hat at that. "_Always gave my crew good quarter, oh!_"

"_But I'm best known for blood and guts and gore and a vicious reign of murdering and slaughter, oh!_" England's one visible eye glinted dangerously. Spain cringed, bad memories involving ships and cannons coming back to mind. France, too, shifted uncomfortably and so did some of the pirate's ex-colonies.

Mysterious voices suddenly filled the room, echoing what the pirate had just sang. America screamed. A high-pitched girly screamed while shouting something along the lines of ghost but no one really paid him any mind. They were too entranced with this England, no, Blackbeard.

"_Left my home in Bristol with a sword and pistol. Bid a fond farewell to old Blighty, oh!_"

"_What my enemies feared was my thick, black beard which I always enjoyed setting light to, oh!_" England furiously patted his burning black beard, and the other nations were torn between laughing or seriously creeped by the mysterious fire that came out of nowhere.

Within the blink of an eye, England was now standing beside Spain. He crouched a little taking the Spaniard's right hand in his.

"_Once I had a thing,_" Romano's face was going red with anger and jealousy which quickly turned to embarrassment when the pirate continued "_for a captive's lovely ring that shone like a jewel in the nighty, oh!_"

Spain was stuttering because clearly he was not wearing any ring, though he did remember something similar to what England had just said, and if he were to jog his memories further, it was the reason why he stopped adorning his fingers with rings. Of course England had intended to make him remember.

"_When the man said no, I just said 'Oh!' and chopped off his hand and said 'Righty-o!'_" England whipped out his cutlass and literally slammed it down. It pierced through the desk merely inches from Spain's arm, but it was enough to cause the Spaniard to tumble from his chair, screaming hysterically while gripping his right hand to make sure it was still intact as a particularly bad memory played in his head.

The mysterious voices came back again echoing his singing.

There was a short interlude. Spain had stopped screaming now and still the other nations were rooted in their spot. Their eyes concentrated on England. Said man was standing in front of the lines of flag poles that adorned one of the meeting room's walls and he had a faraway look now as if relieving the old days.

"_Oh, I love to sail the ocean with my flag that inspired emotion._"

He pulled out a black material from inside his pocket. The mysterious voices came back again and as they sang England began to untie his Union Jack flag from the flag pole and tied his pirate flag.

"_With it's smiling pile of skull and bones. Smashing heart with a violent stabbing motion._" As they finished England roughly stabbed the flag pole back in it's place to make sure everyone looked at his flag. Sure enough the new flag was black with a picture of white demonic skull almost piercing a red heart with his white spear.

"_And I love to escape detection and to win my crew's affection._" England swung around, as if he was dancing.

The mysterious voices sang once again, "_Which was nothing to do with the twelve guns he wore on his belt that were for protection._"

If the nations had sharp eyes, which they had, they could made out twelve guns on his belt while England's twirling motion lifted his coat up in the air as if on purpose. There were his two flintlock pistols, blunderbuss, pocket pistols volley guns, and a three-barrelled and four-barrelled pistols. Add to that the two cutlasses he had on both his sides. Plus who knew what other kinds of weapons were hidden inside that coat, and knowing England they must all be real, if the bullet wounds on the door weren't proof enough.

He stopped spinning abruptly, "_I was awfully nice._" Some of his ex-colonies would have blanched at that if they weren't too scared out of their mind right now.

"_But I had the odd vice, which occasionally caused a commotion. The thing that I'd do was shoot members of my crew. If they didn't show enough devotion._" He pulled up one of his pistols and without hesitation(and without even looking at his victim) shot at America. The bullet whizzed just above his head, splitting his cowlick into two.

"OMG! He just killed Nantucket!"

The mysterious voice echoed his song again.

"_Once when very irate I shot my arch enemy, Francis Bonnefoy, for a bit of pleasure, oh!_" He pulled out another pistol and shot at France (once again without even looking). It grazed the man's right ear, and France swore he heard a "tch!" coming out of England's mouth.

"Mon Dieu! Are you trying to kill me?"

England ignored him, though everyone knew the answer to that, France was just in denial.

"_And when my debts grew killed half of my crew to increase my share of the treasure, oh!_"

"_Was doing well then seemed to run out of men._" England scratched his fake beard even though it didn't itch.

"_My captives boarded at their leisure, oh!_" He seemed exasperated now.

"_Smoked me dead, then cut off my head and displayed it on my mast for good measure, oh!_" England made a slicing motion with his hand to his own neck and then threw his hands in the air dramatically.

For the last time, the mysterious voices came again echoing the last sentence, while England ran once again onto the podium. This time, he grabbed one of the long curtains covering the back windows and swung above the round table so far that it ripped. England, however, did a seriously awesome barrel-roll just in time and finished it with another double somersault and ran out of the meeting room. Cackling all the way out of the building.

The meeting room was silent. The maroon piece of curtain lay in the middle of the table lamely.

Prussia felt proud of England's display of awesomeness.

Hungary and Japan just realised that they were so entranced the thought of taking pictures didn't even cross their minds.

Spain was sulking in a corner.

France was lamenting his bleeding ear, saying something about his destroyed charm.

America was mourning the dead of his cowlick.

Canada was ignored.

Russia still had that childlike smile on his face though this was more out of amusement from America's predicament.

The Baltics were shaking.

Poland commended the acting.

Austria commended the music.

Switzerland made plans to discuss about guns with England sometime.

Germany sighed, "I can't believe he ripped the curtain."

And I appeared! From a small unnoticed hole in the corner of the meeting room! It's true! England's act is the first curtain opener to this series of horribleness, where the countries show the true history! And here to tell you all about these Horrible Histories is me. Some say I'm a rat, others say I can write. All you need to know is…I'm your horrible host!

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><p>AN: I had wanted to upload this story when I've written a couple more chapters, but...I just can't wait anymore! And I'm having a bit of writer's block, so yeah, don't expect a quick update. This will all be loosely or completely based on the BBC show Horrible History, because it's such a brilliant show and I can't believe no one has ever done this before. I have quite a few chapters planned out already, but feel free to request a sketch. It would be a great help if you could provide me with a youtube link or at least tell me which series and episode it's from though. I hope you enjoy! :)


	2. In which you should stay calmer

Another day, another world meeting. After the show England put up yesterday, the other nations had finally been able to at least ease the memory out of their minds even by a bit. They weren't sure whether to mock England when they see him later or just keep quiet, in case he still had those 12 guns in his belt. When said man were nowhere to be seen however, some of the nations breathed out in relief, thinking that he must had been drunk yesterday and was now too ashamed to come. Others weren't so sure of that.

Their relief was short lived, however, when the steel doors (they replaced it immediately, fearing that England might came back and shoot at it some more) opened to reveal a man with wavy black hair that went down to the base of his neck and green eyes. The other nations recognised him as the other half of Ireland, Northern Ireland. All seemed well at first glance if only said man wasn't wearing what common people would call a plain white dress which seemed a bit too short for him, as it went up to only his knees. He was also wearing a strange hat and his fringe, which was not that long in the first place, was plaited to a few smaller plaids so they fell to his forehead and...was he wearing an eyeliner?

The strangest, however, was not the way he dressed or how he looked, but the single fact that he was bringing a llama to the meeting room. A LLAMA!

"Hi," he began, "I'm an Incan priest."

Most of the nations just gaped at the sight, a few groaned. Oh, this wasn't going to end well.

"I dress well," somehow that statement alone and the fact that North Ireland was only wearing a white dress, sounded like an insult to the French nation who was well-known for his fashion.

"I work hard, and I get through a lot of llamas. I sacrifice a hundred llamas at the beginning of every month."

Mysterious voices similar to the one they heard the previous day began to fill the room, but in a more cheerful tone..."Stay calmer when you want to harm a llama, call a llama~ farmer."...and catchy, too!

Although the other nations were busy darting their eyes around the room to find where the damn voices came from, a few swore they saw North AND the llama did a little jig at the tune.

North slowly approached one of the nations there, namely Prussia.  
>"What's that? You're going to battle tomorrow? Oh, boy! There goes another thousand llamas." The Northern half of Ireland said with an annoying grin on his face that just doesn't seem normal on his usually calm face. Prussia looked at him weirdly as if he was insane. Maybe he was. Just a bit though. His other brothers were much more insane than him.<p>

But no one had the time to comment on that as the mysterious voices came back again.  
>"Stay calmer when you want to harm a llama, call a llama~ farmer." North AND the llama definitely did a little jig there.<p>

"As you can imagine. Getting through llamas this fast means I soon run out. That's why I buy my llamas from a llama farmer." the Northern personification pointed at his Southern half. The latter was not amused.

The mysterious voices came again. "Stay calmer when you want to harm a llama, call a llama~ farmer." A few noises could be heard in the background _Oy! I'm no llama farmer, ye bassa! _but we're just going to ignore that.

Ireland would have throttled his Northern brother if only he wasn't on probation for a fight he got with England a few weeks ago. Germany threatened to ban him from all the pubs in the world if he got into another fight this month and just the thought of it made him shudder. He was also feeling a bit guilty that maybe he had hit his youngest brother too hard and as a result the latter suffered a brain damage, which would explain his strange, but kind of amusing (Ireland refused to admit it out loud) behaviour yesterday.

The Northern Irish Incan priest was now standing between Russia and Belarus, and said,  
>"What's that? You want to get married? Oh, no! There goes another couple of thousand llamas."<p>

Russia's eyes widened abnormally, North smiled that annoying smile, while Belarus quickly snatched her brother's arm before he could escape.

"Yes, brother! Let's get married, married, married, married!"

"Nooo! Go away!" And in a rare turn of events, Russia was now scared shitless.

Ireland was now fuming. The fact that his brothers (not only one, but two of them) made a fool of themselves in front of the world was starting to piss him off. What his brothers did will look bad on him, too! Not to mention the brat just called him a llama farmer! He wanted so bad to punch his brothers, but couldn't because he's on a stupid probation. The commotion that Belarus and Russia were making was also getting into him. Add to that the fact that the French nation sitting next to him had his filthy hands on his thigh and hadn't let go since North arrived. If you looked closely you could see veins popping in his forehead. But the one thing that got to him the most was that the faeries, _their faeries, not mine! _(although he swore he could see some of his leprechauns among them as well)were singing a stupid (but catchy! _NOT!_) song about llamas.

Of course none of that matters when the faeries began singing again.  
>"Stay calmer when you want to harm-" "SHUT UP!" Oops, guess I was wrong. The Irish nation couldn't hold his anger anymore; stood up, slammed the French nations head to the table and shouted at his brother, "Why the bloody hell are you here in that stupid getup, huh?"<p>

His northern counterpart stared at him calmly and replied, "Well you know, that's because they won't let me be a knight."

_They? _"They?" the nations asked at the same time.

Suddenly the door burst open once again and in came three green-eyed knights! Each with different hair colour, but similar smirks on their face.

The nations gaped. North just looked at them blankly. Ireland stared at the three in disbelief, and his head met the desk.

* * *

><p>Uh oh, looks like there will be MORE trouble! Well, the more chaos the better right? Hahahaha! *ahem * Sorry about that. Anyway the author told me to give Its thanks to all who reviewed and It is glad that you enjoy it. To GirlLoki, don't worry because the author already has a plan for that song. Also before any of you ask, while the first few chapters take place in modern times, most of the rest will jump around history. Don't worry I will be warning you before that happens. I'm your guide, after all!<p>

Oops, forgot to mention. The author also would like you to know that the only OC nations It will use are the UK brothers + Ireland. There will be other OCs, but they will be humans. Oh and one other thing, the author can't do accents very well, so...just use your imaginations. Unless you want to help, that'd be much appreciated. It would also like your opinions on the current chapter titles. Is it too annoying with all the "In which..."? Should It have titled the first chapter "England the Blackbeard?" or does that reveal too much? What do you think? Me? I think as long as It has a chapter in which there are lots and lots of cheese then I'm find with anything! Hahahaha! Fiuh, that's it, I think. Now let's see what will happen next...


	3. In which George is killed

The three knights had suddenly barged into the meeting room. Their smirks grew even wider at the nations' baffled faces, except for Ireland who rather chose to keep his face on the table. The tallest of the three, recognised as Scotland, wore a red tunic on top of his metal armour which matched his similar fiery red hair. Next to him was England with a yellow tunic which matched his gold blond hair. The third night, the nations recognised him as Wales, was wearing a black tunic because they couldn't find a brown one to match his autumn brunette hair.

"That's why I told them I should have been the knight instead of Wales." North said to no one in particular.

"Nah, I don't like llamas. I prefer sheep." the Welsh nation replied calmly as if that reason alone was more than enough explanation as to why the brunette Welsh should be a knight rather than the black-haired Northern Irish.

"Enough, brothers. Let's start!" Scotland commanded and out of nowhere music began to play.

The Irish nation slowly lifted his face from the table. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to his brothers were about to do.

"I'm a knight," Scotland boasted hitting his chest.  
>"I'm a knight," England followed in the same smug manner.<br>"and I'm a knight," Wales pointed to himself with his thumb.

"And our only aim in life is to fight" the three sang in unison.

"I'm a knight," Scotland shouted between France and Ireland's ears. Ireland groaned in irritation.  
>"I'm a knight," England did the same to Germany and Italy which prompted the Italian to cry and clung on Germany's arm for dear life.<br>"and I'm a knight," Wales sang as he leaned on the Northern Irish nation and his llama. North rolled his eyes while the llama didn't seemed even the slightest bit bothered.

"We fight by day, and when it's not so bright. We're not so bright!" The tree knights sang together again linking their arms on each others shoulders.

"We like to beat, and chop and stab our wicked enemy," the Scottish knight sang while demonstrating with his sword.

"But all the time we try to stick to rules of chivalry," England added.

"Rule one, we have to do brave deeds for some great lady fair," the Welsh nation explained; lifting his index finger for all to see.

"I'd write poems," England sang and was about to read his poems, (which he did not spend the whole night writing, definitely not) before Scotland interrupted him.

"I would joust, like real men do, England. Real men," Said man scowled.

Before a fight could break out, Wales continued, "Well I would fight a bear," the Welsh nation paused a bit before adding, "Well, maybe a teddy bear."

The three (or at least two of them) must had rehearsed this, because at that moment Scotland held up a teddy bear in front of Wales. One which England recognised. The blond knight's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Wait, thats-!" Too late.

Wales swung his sword down and split the bear into two.

"NO! GEORGIIIEEEEE!" England dropped to his knees. Holding the headless body of his teddy bear. His bear who was always with him through thick and thin. Tears were pricking on his eyes, but alas the show must go on.

"I'm a knight," Scotland sang cheerfully.  
>"I'm a knight," Wales followed, a too sweet smile decorating his face.<br>"and I'm a knight," England finished lamely with a depressing aura around him.

England's eyes suddenly glinted dangerously and with more volume than necessary practically shouted,  
>"And our only aim in life is to fight!" He then proceeded to swing his sword at his brothers, narrowly missing their heads by mere inches.<p>

The two ducked the attack and each quickly got a hold of England's arms before he could attack again. They dragged their younger brother to the side as if avoiding the audience. Surely they realised this was a meeting room and not a stage?

The other nations' gazes followed them. Most had their eyebrows raised quizzically, wondering what the heck was going on.

The music died down, giving both the performers and the audience a chance to relax. Not that anyone could. Except maybe the llama who chewed on one of America's burgers and then violently spitted it out at the taste.

"Oh, come on! McDonald's delicious and that was my favourite jacket!"

Meanwhile the three knights were whispering to each other.

"Calm down! We agreed on a truce today, didn't we?" Scotland whispered.

"Yeah, and you can just stitch George's head back later anyway," Wales reasoned.

"Besides," the two said in unison, "we are here to mess with the other nations, right?"

At that England stopped thrashing about.

"And whose idea was it that we do this?" Scotland added, sensing that his brother had finally gone back to his senses.

"Look at their reactions, England. Its priceless! This is the best idea you've had in years!" Wales followed.

A new fire flickered in England's eyes and an smirk grew on his lips.

"Well, come on, brothers. We're not finished, yet."

The other two beamed and the three once again made their way to the centre of the stage, I mean, meeting room where their audience were warily waiting (because whispers are never signs of good things).

England was now back with that impish look on his face. In fact, his face seemed even more determined than before. He waved his right hand and the faeries took it as the signal to start the music again.

"I'm a knight," Scotland started.  
>"I'm a knight," England continued.<br>"and I'm a knight," and Wales followed.

"We charge ahead, but never left or right. We're never right!" the three sang in unison with a huge smile on each of their faces.

"Rule two, we have to practise in the noble art of war," the brunette knight sang while holding up his index and middle fingers.

"Battle for our king and country, that's what knights are for," the blond knight elaborated.

"And if there is no war to fight, a-hunting we will go," the red-head released his bow (where did that came from?). The arrow zoomed across the round meeting table and lodged itself on the wall, right next to poor Lithuania who just happened to be sitting on that spot.

"We hunt for deer and rabbits too, so long as they are slow," Wales sang, ignoring Lithuania's horror-stricken face and shaking body.

"Otherwise we can't catch them!" the other two brothers nodded in agreement.

Scotland."I'm a knight."  
>England. "I'm a knight."<br>Wales. "and I'm a knight."

Together now! "And our only aim in life is to fight."

"I'm a knight, I'm a knight and I'm a knight" The three sang in the same routine.

"We are fighters and our armour's always tight," Scotland sang as he tried to pull on his suffocating collar.

"And these swords aren't light!" England pretended to fall with his sword in hand.

"Rule three, in war we aim to capture other knights alive," Wales put up his fingers signalling the number three.

The Scottish knight put his sword around England's neck.  
>"Their families pay us lots of dosh so long as they survive," he sang and then roughly let his brother go.<p>

The English knight stayed calm, dusted himself, and sang his part.  
>"We act like gentlemen, and only fight with other gents."<p>

"A real knight, he would never fight against peasants!" Wales continued, "Anyway, peasants pong! Eurgh!" The three pinched their nose and made disgusted faces. All three pairs of green eyes fell upon a certain French nation.

"Merde! Why are you guys always picking on me?"

"I'm a knight, I'm a knight and I'm a knight" Once again in turns!

"And our only aim in life is to fight" All together now!

"I'm a knight, I'm a knight and I'm a knight" Scotland, England, and Wales linked shoulder to shoulder.

Everyone! "When we ride to war we're such a splendid sight. We are a sight!"

The three held on the last note for a very long time. Even when Scotland and England were out of breath, Wales just kept going on and on until everyone got bored and England decided to stop him with a smack to his back, which resulted in the older nation choking on his own saliva.

"Alright! Now let's go find the Holy Grail!" Scotland gestured to his brothers.

The three knights (England brought what was left of George with him) ran out of the meeting room laughing manically all the way, followed by North Ireland who was riding on his llama.

The meeting room was silent (once again). Ireland gaped at the door his brothers left through, then he slammed his head to the desk repeatedly. Why, oh why did they not invite him in their acts? _Hell no! I'm lamenting the fact that I'm bloody related to those fools! _Right...

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><p>Is the llama gone? Good, don't want to be spitted by that thing. Looks like the UK brothers had caused a serious mental disturbance to the other nations. Oh well, let's just hope they find that holy grail. What? Wrong show? Well, that sucks.<p>

Oh, I just remembered I have this note from the author. Let's see, it says here...

"Firstly I would like to thank _Saturn-Jupiter_ for letting me borrow George, and while I sadly could not returned him back in one piece, I am sure that England will fix him in a jiffy. In the mean time, I would like to offer you...the rat? You can chase him, cook him, cut him open, or give him to...a cat?"

Hey! You can't do that! This story won't update without me! What? The note?

"...Don't worry about that, there's plenty of talking rats around. In fact we've held an audition?"

Alright that's it! I'm outta here!...for now.

Ah, author here! It seems the rat is in a bit of a bad mood. He just can't take a little joke. Anyway, once again big thank you to _Saturn-Jupiter _and to _Extra Penguin_ and _Cupkakinator_ who reviewed. Also, I could not believe that after two chapters I still haven't say the disclaimer. Well, I'm sure all of you already know, right? Just in case, though...

Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya. Horrible Histories belong to BBC. OC! Scotland belong to pixiv user Repeko. Other OC s kind of, sort of, belong to me, I guess.

Next chapter: An annoying character! Yeah, that's all the hints you get.

Feel free to request a sketch!


	4. In which France joins in on the fun

It was a bright and sunny day. The sky was a clear blue without a single cloud in sight, a quite unusual sight if you had familiarised yourself with the usual dreary, foggy day of London. Another quite unusual thing worthy to note was the non-existent sounds of explosion and arguments and more explosions and smell of something burning that were normally present in the UK household. Instead there was a peaceful and harmonic aura surrounding the house itself, a huge 180 degree change, especially if you knew what the house occupants did yesterday.

Oh, what's this? An unknown figure had sneakily crept up to one of the houses's windows. The figure took a peak on the window and what the figure saw made him gasped.

The house occupants were gathered in the living room lounging civilly in their red, long sofa and were laughing. LAUGHING! Not at each other, but TOGETHER as they watched the telly.

Now, the figure had seen many strange things in his long years of life, but as someone who had known the UK members for a long time, there was nothing stranger to him than seeing the normally barbaric brothers get along with each other. Either this was a miracle or hell had indeed frozen over and the world was about to end.

He pressed closer to the window and he could just barely made out what they were saying.

"Hahahaha! Oh, I remember I used to chase you around like that with my axe. Those were fun times, eh England?"

"It may be fun for you, but not for me!"

"Aye, but it did ye good, didn't it?"

The blond couldn't help but chuckle at that, "I guess." And soon all four brothers was laughing again.

To say that the figure was baffled, would be the understatement of the century. Figuring it had something to do with whatever it was they were watching, the figure turned his head towards the telly and there, he found all the answers to his questions and more.

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><p>It was a bright and sunny day. The perfect day to go outside, which was why Hungary took it as a chance to have a little quality time to herself. She was walking in a beautiful garden admiring each and every flowers that bloomed. The comforting breeze blew on her face and her green dress danced gracefully with the wind. With all the problems around her house and the constant bothering of Prussia, it had been some time since she felt at peace. She continued to walk in the garden, oblivious to the trap that awaited her.<p>

A crack.

A gush of water.

A scream.

A shout, "BOOM BOOM BANG BANG, BABY!"

A lone figure came out of his hiding in the shrub, while Hungary blindly moved about trying to get rid of the water in her eyes. The figure approached Hungary, and in the most annoying tone she had ever heard (more annoying than Prussia, even) practically shouted, "WooHoo! You've been BONNEFOY'D!"

Everything happened so fast and the confused Hungarian was only left the option to say the first thing on her mind, "what?"

The figure repeated, "You've been BONNEFOY'D! Ohonhonhonhon!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you've been Bonnefoy'd. As in me! Francis of Bonnefoy!" the figure, a man with shoulder length wavy-blond hair and blue eyes, pointed to himself.

With a more gentle, teasing tone the French continued, "Ah mademoiselle, you look so lovely in zat beautiful green dress and your wet hair...Non! Zat is not important! What's important iz you've been BONNEFOY'D!"

Mixtures of emotions can be seen on the Hungarian's face. She was not very fond of France due to his perverted nature (towards Austria), but this just took it to a whole new level. Ruining her peaceful quality time was simply unforgivable. Not to mention the man had then dared to make a pass on her. She was seriously contemplating on punching the French nation then and there, however there was a huge question running in her head and she found herself asking it instead.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

The answer only served to piss her off even more.

"Because you've been Bonnefoy'd, girl." and as though the years of spending time with Prussia had finally rubbed on him, he continued with, "AWEZOME! Ohonhonhonhon!" and ran away before the Hungarian could hit him.

* * *

><p>He found his next victim not far from where the Hungarian was. His best friend and gang member, the awesome Prussia, woohoo! The white-haired man was walking in the garden seemingly sulking.<p>

"Dammit! Just when I was planning to have fun, the sissy aristocrat and the brutal girl aren't home."

He was walking past a tall, white statue of an angel posing to urinate when suddenly the statue came to life! And by that I mean, water really came out of its little, stone willie.

"BOOM, BABY! It's ma pissing statue!" the hiding French nation was cheering.

Meanwhile, Prussia having assaulted by a urinating angel slipped on the now wet grass and fell.

"Aww, and he's fallen in zee nettles! Excellent! Time for me to go and say 'hello'." France was about to come out when he heard the Prussian groaning.

"Argh...I will kill whoever did this."

France stopped in his track and slowly backed away, "Err, maybe I'll just leave it for a little bit, okay? Okay."

* * *

><p>Austria was taking his daily walk in the garden, unaware of a certain French nation quietly hiding behind the hedges.<p>

He loved the garden. It helped gave him inspiration for his music. There was a serene feeling here and it was the perfect place to think. As he was thinking this, the ground suddenly opened and he fell with a girly shrieked.

"WooHoo! Ohonhon! My best bud, the piano aristocrat, Austria, has just been Bonnefoy'd!"

France walked towards the edge of the hole where Austria had fallen into and shouted in a sing-song tone, "You've been BONNEFOY'D! Ohonhonhonhon!"

A weak reply came from the Austrian, "I think I need a doctor. My leg is broken."

That, however, only made the grin on the French nation's face wider and he shouted (again), "Alright! TOP OF DA POPS~!"

* * *

><p>France was now standing between an Austrian with a broken leg and hand, and a really pissed Prussian. The annoyingly cheerful grin was still plastered to his face and he began talking to no one in particular, "Okay, I think you will agree that zees dudes have made excellent victims, no?"<p>

He turned towards Austria, "Hi-five, big brother!"

The Austrian merely let out a sigh and said, "Please, don't touch me."

While the Prussian commented, "Not awesome, dude."

The French ignored the two and continued, "Okay, zen. Next week we'll have more fun, we have more pranks, we..." Before he could finished, Hungary came running with her frying pan in hand and hit France's face with it (Not on the face!).

"Ha! You've been BONNEFOY'DED!"

"It's BONNEFOY'D!" France retaliated.

He held on to his painful cheek, tears pricking in his eyes, "NO! Zat is not cool! Zat is not awezome! I thought you were my friendz." And he went away sulking.

The three was left grinning to each other, and Prussia gave Hungary a hi-five.

* * *

><p>Look at that. It seems France has finally caught on why the UK brothers were acting weirdly. Too bad his own pranks backfired. Oh, and a huge thank you to LittleUkeGirl, the only one who reviewed last time.<p>

Next up: Someone else will find out...literally.


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